Someday
by pyxistar
Summary: But then again, did he even have one more day left inside him? - an au in which they're fresh out of high school and both not quite who they want to be... [gay!adrien] Takes place in the US.


**Warning:** This story is bittersweet and doesn't have the traditional happy ending. Please don't read if you are sensitive to the following topics: brief implications of domestic abuse, brief implications of homophobia and detailed descriptions of self-loathing and depression.

Absolutely none of the pictures used in this post belongs to me! x

Without further ado, here is the one shot!

╳°»｡ ∾･⁙･ ღ ➵ ⁘ ➵ ღ ･⁙･∾ ｡«°╳

Chat tried not to feel it. He tried so hard to expunge the feelings that he was almost convulsing on the concrete, holding his sides and rocking back and forth on his heels. Very few passerby stopped to look, and those that did were more spooked by the seemingly possessed shadowy character in the alleyway than not, so no one paused for more than a heartbeat.

No matter how much he wanted to will it all away, he could taste it on his tongue. Like rotten meat stuck between his teeth, or eating sweets and drinking soda after brushing his teeth and then swallowing the tooth paste. The churning of his stomach matched the way he'd imagine those things would actually make his stomach feel - like it was turned inside out. It made him even more nauseous than before.

 _You've been hiding it for years. You can do it again. Just for one more day, at the very least. I need more time!_

But then again, did he even have one more day left inside him?

The secrets that he kept caused so much pent up frustration he took to clawing down the sides of the brick wall behind him. He gritted his teeth at the sound - akin to nails on chalkboard - but he kept drawing down his claws until they were worn to the nubs of his fingertips, and even then he kept going until his fingertips felt raw.

Maybe if he convinced himself that this was Ladybug's fault, the rest of the pain would fade away into the background. But wasn't it her fault? Wasn't she the one that insisted that Chat and herself were a team, only to best him at every opportunity? Only she could de-evilize akumas, only she had never been affected by an akumatized villain. Only she seemed to possess the cunning and the grace to leave a battle unscathed while Chat desperately stumbled behind to catch up.

A team? Ha! He was no more her equal than he was his father's pride and joy. He had to be honest with himself: he wasn't Ladybug's partner, he was her sidekick. He was her lesser, not an equal. And maybe he was tired of playing second fiddle!

But this added layer of frustration accumulated like a translucent film over the true problem. The source of his inhibitions. After all, his superhero alter ego was in the spotlight just as much as his civilian form. He always had to be perfect and portray a happy character that could do no wrong. One slip up was months of work, the tiresome reconstruction of his positive and blemish-free image. Like the time he was caught on camera lashing out at some overbearing paparazzi. His father grounded him for a month. Such is the life of a model, such is the life of a hero...

And on top of it all, keeping a blemish-free image meant avoiding all controversies like the plague, which really dampened his interest in politics. After all, who wanted hear him babble about his true opinion when he could play it safe and avoid it all together? Speaking strictly, for example, on his interest in...in...What he meant was his romantic feelings towards those that some may not agree with. But aren't people more lenient nowadays? How many modernized peoples would actually feel offense if he admitted that he didn't care so much for girls as he did -

 _"_ _Chat?"_

Chat Noir whipped around towards the entryway. There, illuminated not by distant starlight but by the golden-hue of the streetlight, was Marinette. They were good friends in high school. She had a stutter and was pretty clumsy, but she had a level head and was sort of the pillar that everyone leaned on. Sometimes even for people like Chloe. They haven't spoken as much since eleventh grade, when the dynamic between them shifted abruptly, like an earth quake that gave no warning. She clung to the arm of her boyfriend and Adrien went from girl to girl, hoping to find someone that would be a good distraction from the raw bitterness he felt festering inside. Sort of like what he felt in his scrapped fingertips. Blood even beaded at the top of his left pointer finger.

Tonight Marinette hugged her arms tightly around herself even though she was in a thick coat and gloves. He wondered why she was trekking outside in the snow when she was so cold her lips looked purple. Unless that was just the lighting? He squinted at her. Was that a yellowing bruise on her cheekbone?

"Are you alright?" Marinette was closer now than before, one of her hands cautiously ghosting over his shoulder. Subconsciously, Adrien reeled back, afraid that her touch would be the hammer that cracked through his facade. She awkwardly dropped her hand to her side, shifting her weight slowly on her feet. "There's not a, u-uh, akuma, is there..?"

Chat shook his head. "No. Not right now, at least...I just needed a break from my civilian life, y'know? You don't want to see how I get when I'm stir crazy." He winked.

"So naturally you came out here to get even more stir crazy, alone, in an alleyway? I don't know about you but to me that sounds just a little sketchy, Chat Noir." Marinette smiles meekly, and although the typical bounce returned to her voice, the air around her felt colder; the light a little dimmer. The atmosphere around them wasn't choking on untold secrets and fervent lies.

"Ah, always so judgmental." Chat allowed himself to nudge her, allowed himself to smile. It was more of a crooked smirk that an amused grin, but he imagined it was more pleasant than his typical blank stare and anxious lip bite. Marinette snorted behind her hands. She rolled her eyes.

"Hey, my judgements are usually sound. I'm sorry if my instincts tell me not to trust a man in a black suit creeping around dark alleyways. But hey, I promise to keep my lips sealed if you promise to spilt whatever profits you got with me fifty-fifty."

"Hmm, I don't know. Fifty-fifty seems pretty unfair when I did all the work." Chat chuckled. It was nice to genuinely lapse into comfortable conversation rather than his usual guarded quips. "Besides, what do you think I'm doing anyway?"

"Oh, I don't know, cat burglary? Just a hunch." This time it was her turn to wink. Was this the very same Marinette he went to school with? The one that seemed so shy and caught on her words? She spoke so fluidly now, so openly. In fact, as she spoke, he couldn't help but admire how closely she sounded like Ladybug. He also couldn't help it when the memories flooded his thoughts like a hurricane and he remembered partially why he was so...mad? Was this even anger, or had it transcended to another plane of existence? The constriction of his airways felt more severe than simply self-pity and frustration. It was clear that whatever it was, Marinette noticed. "Come on, you can talk to me...I-I mean if you want. We don't really know each other so I understand if-if you, uh...aha..."

"I wish I could, but..." Chat gnawed on his lip. "I shouldn't bother you with this. It would be impolite to make you feel obligated to listen to me ramble and, really, I'm alright. Just your run-of-the-mill bad day."

"Ah."

Silence ensued. Carefully, Marinette leaned her back against the brick wall. A gasp involuntarily sounded when she made contact with the frost encased wall. After a few moments, she finally slide down to the ground, hugging her knees up to her chest. Chat didn't imagine it was a comfortably warm position to take, but he had to admit that after his intense internal quarreling, he felt like his legs would buckle at any moment. Quivering, Chat slowly sat down beside her, crossing his legs and leaning his head back.

They sat there for a long while, silent as tombstones. Neither spoke, neither moved. Perhaps they didn't need to. The air around them shifted to one of mutual understanding: Marinette wasn't here by any coincidence. It was fate, possibly, or the interwoven destinies of two forlorn souls.

Chat cast her a quick side glance. Marinette was drawing a random pattern into her jeans. Her hands trembled from the biting chill. She was closer than when she first arrived. Now he could see the outline of the yellow-hued blotch on her cheekbone, adorned like a golden crown of agony. Fresh, purple flowers blossomed along her jawline; born of a violent springtime promise, like rain cascading down the rooftops in the form of a thunderstorm. His jaw clenched.

"I'm guessing you aren't out here tonight because you enjoy the cold winter nights?" He gestured to her shivering form. A bitter, artificial chuckle forced its way through Marinette's teeth.

"What gave me away?"

Chat Noir tapped his own jaw, where her bruises formed. Marinette's hand traced around the edges of the bigger one, feeling it although it was obviously still tender. She flinched away from her own touch.

"Ah." She sighed again. "My boyfriend and I…we recently moved in together. It seemed only fitting. I'm eighteen, he's nineteen. We've been together almost two years. But lately he...I don't know. He's never home anymore. Even when he is, if that makes sense? Something severed the connection we used to have, and sometimes...I just lose it. Which is dumb, I know. I've always been the strong one. The one that has everything under control, the one that everyone at school thought would have it all figured out by seventeen. Now here I am, looking like a battered wife and a lousy high school dropout."

Chat placed his hand comfortingly on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry, Marinette." He didn't know what to say: she was right. He looked up to her for the same reasons he looked up to Ladybug. Even though she was clumsy and stuttered when she spoke, she knew what she wanted in life. She had goals, and a feasible future of success. Adrien was just as shocked now as he was when she dropped out of school. He should have been more sympathetic as her friend...after all, he too knew what it was like to be pressured by the unrealistic expectations of one's peers. "Did you know that Gabriel Agreste dropped out of high school? Now he's one of the top fashion designers in the world. Frankly, I think anyone can do anything if they put their minds to it."

Marinette smiled at him meekly. "Thanks." She half-heartedly nudged him. "Now what's your story? I can't be the only one spilling my guts here!"

"I guess it is only fair, huh?"

"Fifty-fifty." Marinette reminded him softly. This time it was her turn to put her hand on his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I...have a secret. Or, a few, really. I guess the worst of it is that sometimes I wish Ladybug would fail instead of me. We're supposed to be a team, y'know? But I don't feel that way. I don't understand why she's so much better than me at everything! I'm always messing up." His hand ran fervently through his hair as he spoke. His heart began to pound as the truth finally unleashed itself. The floodgates had been opened and soon he found himself drowning in the ugly truth. "I know that makes me a terrible person. Worst of all, she's my best friend...and yet I still have the audacity to wish upon her the most horrible things. What kind of person must I be to feel this way? Perhaps I'm more of a villain than a hero..."

 _"_ _...Chat..."_

"And it gets worse! In real life, I have an image to uphold. I can't be who I want to be. I told an old friend about it once. A pen pal named Nino from another state that had no idea who I was in real life. After I told him my secret, about how I felt about him, things got weird. He just disappeared, just like everyone else. Like my mother, like my father, like my old high school friends. And then Ladybug...she acts like my babysitter. Like she needs to rescue me. Well I didn't ask to be saved, I didn't ask to be gay! I didn't ask for anything of this, so why am I being punished? Why do I feel so alone even though I'm always with other people? Why am I so angry at them when this is all my fault? Why do I feel like a black hole that's sucking the life out of everyone I've ever cared about...? _What is wrong with me_?"

Chat scooted away from Marinette, whose stunned features were more than he could bare. He stalked towards the garbage can across the alleyway and kicked it as hard as he could, sending it rolling down the street in a never ending cycle of chaos. How was he any better than Hawkmoth? How dare he be so self-righteous he dare call himself a hero when inside he was as bitter and cold as those he guarded the world from?

"I thought once I actually said it all aloud it'd be like a weight being lifted off my chest. But it's not...how I imagined...I still...I still don't feel..." Marinette rushed up from behind and locked her arms around him in a tight embrace.

"Okay?" Marinette released a shaky breath. "It won't. Not for a while. Some days it'll seem impossible. I know. I've been there too." She untied her scarf, and upon her neck was a purple and blue garden, more sporadic and densely populated than her jawline.

Marinette's grip loosened. When she began to pull back, Chat tightened his grip around her and pulled her into a warm, reassuring hug.

"You just have to remember that it'll be okay again someday." Chat breathed.

"No. We have to stop waiting for a tomorrow that will never come. We have to make things okay for ourselves, because if we wait someone else to do it...we'll end up waiting for the rest of our lives."

When Chat cried into her hair, Marinette did too. They cried together for a long time. To everyone that walked by, it must have been an odd sight. An eighteen year old girl and a superhero crying together in a locked embrace in a dark alleyway on a cold winters night. But is it strange they both found a comfort they've never felt before? It is so strange that together, just for a moment, it felt like they could do anything?

And sure, they had to confront reality when the sun came up and they dusted the dirty alleyway and dried tears and solace off their clothes and headed home. They both walked back to the reality they wanted to forget. Marinette walked back to a home in tatters. Adrien to a father that could never see him as a man; he resumed the identity of the happy-go-lucky, straight model he could never be. But they'd make it okay...somehow. In some way.

 _Someday._


End file.
